Paint the Sky with Stars
by funkymoleperson
Summary: “And then when the clouds are their thickest and the moon is it’s darkest and no light will show for you,” she continued. “Someone will come along and hand you a paintbrush.” “And you take that paintbrush…and you paint the sky with stars.” KxA oneshot.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of Symphonia.**

**Summary: "And then when the clouds are their thickest and the moon is it's darkest and no light will show for you," she continued. "Someone will come along and hand you a paintbrush." "And you take that paintbrush…and you paint the sky with stars."**

**Notes: The one-shot is thick with symbolism, which I generally avoid since I'm not too good at it, but I just love the song "Paint the Sky with Stars" by Enya, and I knew I had to write something off it. Also, beware of spoilers, for this is riddled with them.**

_Paint the Sky with Stars_

It was a cool, quiet Luin evening; crisp and clear, with not a cloud in the sky, so that the stars could shine uninhibited. While the others slept inside, Kratos bent over the railing of the Inn's outdoor stairwell, his gaze focused upward to those stars. They shown so brightly this night, in deep contrast to that night long ago…

He didn't know why he kept coming back into town instead of sleeping out in the forest like he usually did. It certainly wasn't to see that girl…the one he'd run into in Izoold. No, the fact that she was staying in this town was pure coincidence. Or, so he tried to convince himself. After all, all of these humans would meet the same fate, and he'd never cared before. Why now?

_Because she smiled at you…_

He had been human once; lived once. But it had all changed. The oppressiveness of despair had begun to eat away at his heart, and he was beginning to lose sight of what it was exactly he was there for. Mithos had changed. No longer was the boy fourteen, no longer was the boy his apprentice…no longer was the boy his…friend… And Yuan? The other seraphim made him smile grimly with contempt. After Martel's death Yuan had closed the part of his heart that actually cared away from them. Gone were the days of his life when he had friends. So, why would he unconsciously seek her out? He could see no reason.

_Because she cared…_

It hadn't been like they'd said more than a few words to each other in Izoold either. She wasn't an individual. He'd been eating dinner at the local Inn; there had been other people around when she'd walked in. But when she saw him sitting alone, she had immediately walked over and sat down. As if maybe _he_ was individual. She didn't say anything, just smiled at him and ordered some food. At the end, she rose to her feet, she finally spoke.

"I know it may seem odd that a total stranger would be so bold as to come over and sit down, and I know that you've been glowering at me this whole time, but in my defense, no one should be alone on Christmas. Even a wandering mercenary," she said softly, and gave him a smile before turning to go. He didn't know what compelled him to call after her – maybe the warmth of her smile, or the fact that no stranger had shown him such kindness before, but he did.

_No one…_

"Wait!" he voiced, his voice rising barely above a whisper, but it rang crystal clear. She paused and turned, looking curiously over shoulder as if she couldn't quite believe he'd spoken.

_Should be alone…_

"What's your name?" he asked in a rush and the smiled returned to her face.

_On Christmas…_

"Anna," she replied simply, before disappearing out the door into the snow.

He hadn't seen her since. Until now. And he couldn't get her out of his head. The snow had melted long ago, and Izoold was far behind him, but she was still there. And the odd sort of warmth that had entered his chest wouldn't go away. So he had stayed…for a week, then two… Half of him wanted to leave and forget about her, but the other half told a different story.

Then it didn't matter, because he overheard that she had returned home to her family in Izoold. Now he could close himself off to all this, though part of him despaired to. When night fell, he was in a bad mood, and it only grew worse as he became angry with himself for caring about this. For opening the locked door to his heart and having someone wedge their foot in it so that he couldn't shut it again.

And then, as he was walking, she just appeared by his side. He hadn't been paying attention at first, and then began to notice that there was someone walking next to him. And there she was. She hummed to herself, smiling and looking up at the sky. He snuck a glance at the sky as well, but could not see what was so interesting about it this night. It was dark and obscure, made more so with the lack of moon. When he turned his eyes back, he saw that she was looking at him.

"Your feelings are in chaos…" she commented lightly and he stopped dead in his tracks. "You know, sometimes when you feel a great grievance, the sky looks dark and empty. You don't see how the stars could ever shine again, and you begin to lose hope for what the future holds…"

"I thought you left," he interrupted, and it was almost like they hadn't just met once before and that they were talking as if it was only natural. She continued talking as if he hadn't interrupted.

"And then when the clouds are their thickest and the moon is it's darkest and no light will show for you," she continued. "Someone will come along and hand you a paintbrush."

He opened his mouth to speak again, wondering what was going on, what she was saying, how she _knew_, but she place a finger over his mouth to shush him.

"And you take that paintbrush…and you paint the sky with stars," she said, smiling at him and removing her finger. Then she reached into her pockets and pulled out a small, simple, possibly even homemade, paintbrush. She reached out and put it in his hand and pressed his fingers over it so that he held it without her support. Before he could react, she walked away, disappearing into the shadows.

He looked all over, but could not find her, finally running to the edge of town to where he could see tiny lights of a caravan far in the distance. She was gone. But before she had left, she had come back to him. He looked down at the paintbrush he clutched in his hand.

_And you take that paintbrush…_

Why did she do this to him? What was it about her that filled his head with so many questions…questions that he wanted answered? When she smiled at him, he had wanted her to keep smiling forever, because when he saw her smile, he almost felt like…like it would be ok.

_And you paint the sky with stars…_

He looked at the paintbrush for a long time, and then pocketed it. What the girl hadn't known was that she had become…one of his stars. Night passed into day, and day into night. Time passed.

She had woken up one morning in early autumn to find a canvas by her bed. It was painted several different shades of blue. But towards the top in the center with a single tiny dot of yellow. She smiled.

When the rich autumn reds and oranges faded from the lands and snow graced the earth again, she was sitting by herself eating dinner at the Inn. He entered a short time later and walked assuredly toward her table, sitting down and ordering, but otherwise saying nothing, just as when they had first met. While they waited for their food, he slit another, smaller canvas toward her, with the paler blues of the sky before the sun rose. It was harder to make out, but this time there were more points of yellow.

He thought he saw a tear glistening in the corner of her eye as she smiled at him, but he wasn't sure. "I know it may seem odd that a total stranger would be so bold as to come over and just casually slide a painting to you, but you…you painted his first star. And…and…no one should be alone on Christmas."

She laughed, and it was worth a million stars to hear her laugh, and an uncountable amount more when she leaned over and threw her arms around him, hugging him and filling him with warmth…

"Kratos?" He snapped out of his memories, unable to hide the faint smile that had come across his face as he remembered. Lloyd stood in the doorway, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, just…" Kratos replied softly, a sad look in his eyes. "…looking at the stars."

_Who has paced the midnight sky?_

_So a spirit has to fly_

_As the heavens seem so far_

_Now who will paint the midnight star?_

_Fin._


End file.
